VAKNA: the awakening
by Aretz
Summary: My take on the continuation of the inheratence style -I started writting this roughly 4 years ago. Stumbled upon it recently and really like it - if it gets reads ill post more.
1. Chapter 1 (10-24 06:32:55)

Fairths of sadness, and fairths up above

Eragon looked upon the fairth through tear filled eyes; it was the last he would see of alagaësia, to properly breath its air, to walk upon its now free of war land.

He was only just that of a man, only just, yet the full implications of killing galbatorix had only now sunk in; he was, perhaps, the most powerful being to roam the world, which, only recently, he discovered to be round.

The gentle rocking of the elvish boat Talíta had finally deemed rough enough for Eragon to notice, his present grief which was still fresh in his veins clouded his normally alert mind. He cursed silently as he looked back on the many times he had promised to be more alert, to stay aware of all things, yet his mind was still in need of more training. In which, he still was gaining tutage.

After what was just a week, Eragon grew bored of the waves of the ocean, the constant straight lined visage that the ocean-view seemed only but pleased to offer. Instead, Eragon decided to enquire more knowledge from that of the Eldunarí, to explain memories that the dragons had pushed upon him from the flight from vroengard; the island that once held the city of the riders.

Their memories were things of great and interesting topics, some of use, and some of great power. The eldest of the dragons, Valdr, had once explained how the smallest building blocks of the earth known in the ancient language as slíëat, could be split in half, producing great amounts of energy, the same could be done by putting two slíëat together, however it was less effective for gaining energy. Valdr often spoke in almost in-understandable forms, being partial to speaking with feelings, smells, imagery and emotions, and when Eragon still could not understand a concept after many metaphors, umarouth* would interrupt, substituting abstract thoughts for the solid, powerful old tongue.

Casting aside his dreadful mood, Eragon reached out for his partner-of-heart-and-mind, saphira, the beautiful blue dragon was currently underneath him, feeding upon a school of fish complaining, "their bony spines make most of their body" as she did about fish most frequently. He spoke with her briefly, with no recognisable language but in a stream of unconscious connection. Eragons eyes closed to see the world from under the water, the scurrying fish not near enough a match for the fast moving dragon that pursued them.

Through their connection, Eragon could feel the Eldunarí keeping their minds wide open in case of any strange lurking monsters that may reside in the deep, much to the objection of Saphira, who was certain of her capabilities. However the precautions were without heed; Saphira rose out of the ocean like that of a fantastic dolphin, water spraying in all directions.

Eragon finally decided to emerge from his bed, and beheld his room. Cramped though it was, he was grateful for it, the boat did not need to store anything other then the Eldunarí and the dragon eggs. So all the elves on board were able to have rooms to reside in. The food grew from the ships masts, sung out by a young elf by the name of Eíthearest, which meant wind flow in the ancient language. All through the day one could hear her soothing voice sail across the boat as she sung to the plants that grew out of the many out branching planks on the ship. She often drew power from an Eldunarí called sethstíà - or night cloud in the old tongue. The Eldunarí was one of the dragons enslaved to galbatorix, and was the first to be coaxed out of insanity by the other free dragons, and often loved to listen to Eíthearest sing, her ever-changing melodies kept him in a pleasant mood, and he often fed her with energy so that she never waxed or waned in her singing.

Beholding his appearance in in the mirror, Eragon recited the incantations needed for him to shave, and the hair fell off like so many loose leaves of a tree.

Making his way up to the deck Eragon could hear the soft crooning voice of Eíthearest and her singing, he greeted her and she stopped briefly, wishing eragon a pleasant day, and he that the stars shine brightly for her. She then offered him a basket full of freshly-sung fruit and seeds which he accepted with gratefulness.

After landing, Saphira watched him from one of the top most masts, once again questioning him about his diet of choice, consisting of only fruit and vegetables. "Well" he said, swallowing the last of his elderberries, the tart taste soon fading from his mouth "at least there are no bones in fruit." She admitted to this, stating that the sooner she could feed off the bovines of the land, the better.

It was then that Blödhgram approached Eragon "are you feeling up to it now? The Eldunarí are tethered to Saphira and are ready to depart." His pointed teeth showing in some of the words he spoke, his main-like hair rippling in the chill of the ocean breeze. Eragon considered him for a moment. The departure he referred to was that for Eragon and the Eldunarí as well as Saphira to head to the very top of the earth, and to make fairths and later to make maps so that the crew of the Talíta could make baring for a continent or island, one large enough for the rebirth of the dragon race. "Yes, I believe I am." Eragon said slowly, as if pondering the nature of each one.

"Perfect, then the other elves and myself will then start with putting wards around you." Blödhgram spoke in a neutral tone, though a slight purr in his voice suggested he was pleased, for it had been three days since the proposition was raised by Saphira, seconded by Gleadr and refused by Eragon, who was at that point in no mood to do anything.

Saphira glided down to the deck by which Eragon climbed on to her, tethering him self to her. The Eldunarí were in a concealed space behind saphira, the opening to their pocket in space an infinitesimally small speck.

The three and thirty elves gathered around Eragon and chanted various wards around him, some, Eragon could tell, were crafted by some of the dragons, this was becuase their meaning was unclear; asking for strange things, using the ancient phrasings for the spell.

To Eragons inner eye, he could see a vast stream of energy seeping into Saphira, her muscles tingled with the energy within.

"Are you ready?" She said, excitement was the shade of her thoughts.

"Of course" he replied.

Without a seconds notice she lept into the air, her massive wings buffeting the älfa around her. With the energy from the eldunarí she never flagged or wore out, her energy being replaced by the hundreds of Eldunarí that were present.

In seconds the ship talíta shrunk into the blue it surrounded, the great swirling tempest of energy that fed saphira kept her going to greater heights. She quickly found a wind current that propelled her even further upward, due to the keen watch of Gleadr.

As ten minutes past Eragon decided to cast a spell to protect both he and Saphira from freezing, keeping air around them, and letting stale air out. The earths horizon subtly started shifting from its normal straight sides to a curve, a continent from the east started to appear, its green sprouting like arms ready to embrace the world. /well, we made it Eragon said.

/as you knew we would. Saphira replied.

For ten minutes Saphira flew around in neither the clouds nor the stars while Eragon made fairths of what he saw, making sure that his observations were accurate and succinct. He then cast wards around the fairths allowing them to sustain damage through falling. He was halfway through wording a phrase when he felt his whole body shiver, as if something was staring down his neck, peering into his inner being. He thought he heard a whisper, sounding familiar, like the music of thoughts, something Erie, distant yet intimately familiar.

Saphira felt in his mind the shock that he felt "little one!" She cried, her thoughts tainted with worry. "Are you ok?" She said.

Eragon replied curtly, too formally for one he was so intimate with.

"Fine, are we going to descend?" He replied, and through their connection she could feel his worry, and he similarly could tell that she was not convinced.

The made their decent, all the while Eragon communed with the wisdom of the dragons, asking them what had happened up there.

Their conclusion was simple, "someone said your true name, but not only that, remember that one can use magic with just one word and guide that word to do much more then that. Someone wanted to communicate with you or perhaps experience you by saying your name. But theres little that would do them now, your name has changed."

Descending down further and then onto the ship eragon undid all the wards protecting them from the harms of the heavens an took the Eldunarí from their pocket in space using a magic to transport them all to their room, the magic ebbed at his strength severely, but he didn't care, he would do what was needed.

He knew who said his name.


	2. Chapter 2

No love, just words best left unuttered

A week had past since she said his name.

Arya swore, "barzûl" she said, ill fate indeed! She knew deep down how foolish she was, but to keep her from staying away from the world, and from shunning the duties she so could not object, she uttered it. His true name, the very fibre of his being, his very essence. His name spoke of the light and dark, but what was most prominent, even more prominent then that with his bonding with Saphira, was the deep rooted love and affection for her, unquestionable loyalty, perhaps, a devotion to her that no other being elf or human, dwarf or urgal would share.

She treasured this most, but by saying his name, she could see him, as well as she could see him as if he were in the courts of elléssmíra as she was her self.

But she swore never the less, she felt no wiser for saying it, she condemned herself more because of the trust she felt she broke from saying it. Fírnen, the beautiful dragon of evergreen that she was so fortunate to be bonded with perked up, as if aroused by a scent, his mourning intermingled with hers about the loss of saphira, as she was of Eragon, to perhaps never to see them again.

Thoughts from an elf in the court hesitantly asked arya for her attention, which she responded affirmatively. He said concisely "a mirror in the room of táfalt has requested your presence, our bearer of the yëwë, speaker for the varden, Vanir is there" she thanked him. And walked over to a tree that was called tàfalt and asked it to open for her, a knot in the centre opened and gave her entrence, fìrnen did not follow, though the tree gave enough room for him and the room was spacious, but kept his thoughts tethered to her allowing him to be informed of the proceedings.

The älfa in the mirror stared blankly and reacted only slightly to arya's presence, then raised two fingers to his sternum in a gesture of respect.

He stated the traditional words of greeting.

"Arya drötting Atra esternì ono thelduin"

To which she replied

"Mor'ranr lìfa unin hjarta onr"

He then added, perhaps out of habit

"Un du evarìnya ono varda"

Vanir inclined his head slightly, waiting for arya to ask why she was to be called, she acted to his wishes "to what do I owe the pleasure vanir? Is there perhaps a war starting? A political wrong doing?" She said these as to give vanir a message, she wanted him to be succinct.

"Your exalted, there has been great news, the egg dispatched by vàlidor has hatched, a women of 23 named rochelle has been bonded with a Dragon which is female also, I alert to you this so you may be able to talk to her in your own time, what would you like me to do?" He spoke with a slightly annoyed tone, though it peppered through his voice, he feigned "pleasant talk" well thought arya.

"Inform the rider of her position and give her all that she asks for, weather that be knowledge or of service, but do not inform her of magic, as nusuada would find it untasteful to see humans gaining more magical knowledge under the guidance of the älfya, she still wishes to control the magic users of alagaësia. Ask her wether she wishes to journey to du weldenvarden to gain more knowledge as a rider, and help her look after her dragon." She spoke short and strained, thinking quickly about the consequences, her thoughts getting progressively lighter and mellower, Fírnen was jubilant about another of his brethren entering the world.

Vanir accepted the instructions and thanked arya for her time, by which she then made her way towards the throne and sat, it was then that she experienced it, a tremor pass through her body, her very being yearned to shield it self, but she could hear distinctly in her minds eye, the deep and somber thoughts, they were familiar, but more graceful then the last, more knowing, as if he had lived hundreds of years more then he had, for she knew what had happened, Eragon whispered her true name. She tried speaking his, but could not, because his new name had changed, the words seemed stale and stilted, useless and unwelcoming, they meant no more then a wave of wind in the air, soothing, perhaps interesting for some, but useless never the less.

She smacked her fist upon the arm of her throne, she noticed lately that she was getting angrier then late, spending many a days in the sparring grounds of Ellísmira, completely destroying any opponent that wished to face her. Among her emotional change, be that for good or ill, her hair had grown brown, a lighter mousy brown then the black that she possessed, she did not sing her self this way, for she welcomed any natural means that her body had shaped, and was not like that of her kind, who sung them-self into any shape or animal.

vanity; the tool of our destruction she thought grimly.

Though she hardly cared nor noticed, her scent had changed ever so slightly, fírnen pointed it out one morning, almost startled by her change. He tossed aside this emotion like a yacht in the ocean, saying that he preferred the smell anyway.

These changes are not from my emotions, they are equating to something she said to Fírnen. It was this that Fírnen pondered, curled up in a nest that was sung so he could rest near arya's throne. He thought for a while on this and started trying to find changes in himself, arya questioned him, equating any change that he might of had to growth as he was only a hatchling, yet to achieve the size of thorn or saphira, which he would achieve roughly the same size at the age of five, before growth depended on the diet of the dragon.

"No," he spoke with his mind, the music of his voice deep and regal, like that of a commanding king. "The changes in me are more subtle, like trying to catch a salmon in a stream. My thoughts shade the world around me differently, and have been so ever since that of Eragons magic. I believe that his magic will have further reaching implications then you think, neither will a dwarf rider be fully dwarf, perhaps take on more characteristics then just that of the Älfa that humans take on. Perhaps, arya partner-of-heart-and-mind, you will grow horns, and your voice grate like stones as do dwarves, perhaps, your hair is that of a humans. For the most powerful race in the world is them, they may not live like elves do, but perhaps soon they will."

She considered him for a moment, "let us hope i have not to grow horns on my head" she said. She then got up from the throne and went out to the main halls where many were gathered. She cried out to all who were present,

"Atho uno lètha agletham! Lèthia seelàt nutha"

A joyful shout shook the walls of ellísmira like the arms of a hurricane, the jubilant expressions of those who were there, a feast was to be had.


	3. chapter 3

Wild beast, unruly dice

Shaking them in his hand he whispered words into them; words of the ancient language. Throwing them down with vigour they rolled a four, a losing throw. He cursed silently.

 _You should not let him make you roll so lowly_ saphira observed.

 _Perhaps your correct_ Eragon replied, frustration was colouring his thoughts like that of an artist colouring canvas.

Eragon then took the dice again, shielded his mind, and whispered curses inaudably, and wards around the dice, willing them to roll slowly to stop on ones or twos and handed them back to a smiling Blödhgram.

The game was simple, one would take the dice and try to curse and bewitch the dice so that they would not be able to acquit a high scoring role; 5s or 6s. The other person would then try to counter the enchantments spoken, either by blessing them in a unique way, shifting gravity to help the dice in a certain way, placing wards on the dice so that they fell on sixes, or any number of other ways.

There were, however, a few extra rules that would not apply to others who played this game. That Eragon was not able to use the name of names to strip away any curses or there be that would be on the dice; but only to use the grammar that was at his disposal. Another, which was usually a rule used between friends, was not to word a spell that could harm the user; but other methods could be used.

Blödhgram was a successful player, his curses were never of the same nature, and often used abstract methods to curse, so that they were not easily countered. The last rule of the game was for the winner to tell the loser the wording they used, or after a preordained number of matches.

Blödhgram then rolled the dice and came up with a surprising result; snake eyes, an instantaneous loss. His two eyes widened slightly but then recovered to his usual, smooth unnerved visage.

Eragon could not believe it, he worded the spell to do the exact opposite of whatever was told to do, he worded it in such a way that simple spells of detecting curses and wards would not find it, he simply made it counteract the words to be said on the dice, not the dice it self.

Blödhgram scowled slightly and snatched up the dice, uttering verbs and phrases so quickly that they lost meaning to a listener. Eragon looked nervously at the dice. After losing every friendly match they had, to help Eragon, Blödhram suggested a game of three, the winner was then allowed to keep a prize from the other, Blödhgram confidently wagered his dagger, which was no small offer; the dagger would change size of its own accord when weilded by someone, when it tastes blood of a victim, it lengthens, digging deep within the flesh of the person, but would shrink if it got close to hurting its owner, that it could recognise no matter whom was holding it, that, was what blödhgram was wagering. Eragon had little he would want to wager that could match that of Blöghram's illustrious offer.

He thought of the little he had - an that of which an elf would want - and decided he would wage aren, it was not like that of his sword, one of a kind, he was not offering something like his true name, and he was still giving something of equal value. Blödhgram grinned slyly as he took the deal.

Eragon tried quickly to assault Blödhgrams mind, to try to squeeze the information on what he did to the dice, but Eragon knew the movement was the peek of futility. If Blödhgram was offended, he did not show it, but merely nodded towards the dice, the gesture clear.

Eragon picked the dice up, an thought to do something outside the box again, he tried as he would normally to find if any ward were around the dice and found plenty, layered among themselves intricately, perhaps it was one of Blödhgrams trumps, a well conducted spell that he planned for centuries, planning it on in a match he was desperate to win.

Instead, Eragon stated the air surrounding the dice, stating its true name, and the air molecules around it, and made an intricate phrase that would make the air around every face except one slippery, so that it would slide on to the face for the one on the die, and it would then show the six, he used a variation on the ward he would place around a sword when he sparred, making it blunt. He added a cheeky phrase at the end stating that "may the result you choose be one of certainty" out loud, which caught Blödhgram unawares.

He rolled the dice and was surprised to see that he achieved a perfect score, two sixes. If blödhgram was able to achieve the same result, the round would be redone.

"Blödhgram, Eragon, a dragon has hatched!" An elf known as ífia was the one who spoke "it was one of the dragons that was unbonded."

The game was quickly forgotten, blödhgram grabbed his dagger, and Eragon his ring, they left the cramped confines of his room, and quickly made their way to the deck. On the deck a small yellow dragon was present, the remnant of its shell scattered around. The elves sung to it, giving blessings of beauty and grace, good fortune and long claws. Through his link with Saphira, Eragon could feel Saphira gathering up fish from near the area, racing in excitement to fetch a meal for the small dragon.

"Saphira" glaedr thundered "a nïdhwal approaches"

Eragon was in shock, linking his minds with Saphira he felt the searing hatred of the beast paralysing Saphira. He quickly withdrew and linked his mind with all of the dragons who's tempest of energy was at his command. He reached out with their minds and his, seeking to control the beasts mind, but its thoughts were as foreign as the murky depths were that to the sky. the animal, however, was distracted enough to relinquish its hold upon Saphira, who swerved out of the way of the foreboding jaws of the nïdhwal. She swam not away but toward the wretched animal, using her claws to make a laceration about a metre long in its body, the beast all this time was being attacked by the minds of the many dragons. She used her wings to propel her self roughly fifty yards away from the nïdhwal, which swam after her, its life long residence in the deep made it as elegant in the ocean as Saphira was in the air. She quickly spiralled out of the way, using her strong legs to rend the flesh of the nïdhwal, the blood from the last wound already seeping out like smoke in the air. Her tail then wrapped around the long snout like jaw of the beast, using her well muscled body to keep it shut, then, saphira bit into the animal, by which the nïdhwal thrashed, but Saphiras claws held her firmly in place, digging in harder to cause more pain. By this time the ocean was the colour of rubies, the blood seeping out with no regard of direction. She shifted herself around, slowly unfurling her tail from the jaw and attacked the scull of the animal, with claws and no bounds for her blood lust. But the animal started to swim and with its powerful tail chucked itself into the air, jumping thirty metres into empty air. Saphira then quickly let go and got under the animal, using her claws to slash open the under-side of the animal its blood pouring through the air. The beast died before it hit the water again, blood seeping from it like the dregs of a hose. It then, to the shock of the elves the best made one final decent into the depths.

After half an hour Saphira rose out if the ocean again, giving fish to the youngling, communicating with her mind to the dragon that it meant no harm.

She then proceeded to curl up on the deck and blocked her thoughts from Eragon, but their link showed that she was disgusted with what she had done, to kill her kin.


End file.
